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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25599688">dilettante</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/florulentae/pseuds/florulentae'>florulentae</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>stapled verse [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>NCT (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Blood, Heavily inspired by Gotham and the DC Verse, Idiots in Love, Injury, M/M, More like rich vigilantes, Nothing too graphic!, Pining</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 06:14:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,940</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25599688</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/florulentae/pseuds/florulentae</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“<i>Hey, doc,</i>” Johnny greets an unamused Taeyong, a small smile on his lips. Taeyong hits the switch right next to the door, the one that turns on the bright lights, and groans out loud. The mask covering half of Johnny’s face is cracked, bent in an uncomfortable looking way, and even though Johnny wears all black—as usual—Taeyong can see just how wet Johnny’s clothes are.</p><p>The smell of sweat and blood doesn’t help the picture at <i>all</i>.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Lee Taeyong/Suh Youngho | Johnny</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>stapled verse [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1863700</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>84</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>dilettante</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/gifts"></a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>HAPPY (belated) JAY WEEK!!! i hope you enjoy this &lt;3 i'm happy to be your friend and celebrate you.</p><p>huge thanks to the loml emi for the betaing. this will hopefully be just part 1 of a longer verse!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s a rare night off for Taeyong. The dim light of a lamp, the low hum of the TV tuned into reruns of some cheesy show he used to love ten years ago, the warm blanket surrounding him, and the glass of wine he’s nursing all have the doctor considering saying <em>damn the consequences</em> allowing himself to doze off on his mildly uncomfortable couch. It’s the first time in a while that he’s felt <em>this</em> comfortable. He wants to bask in the glory of it.</p><p>Outside, dark clouds hovering over the already dark city and rain pummels the grey pavement. Thunder brightens the night for a moment, startling Taeyong and sending his heart hammering against his ribcage. Storms have never been his favorite but he does feel glad that no car alarms blare near his building tonight.</p><p>He slumps against the pillows with a sigh, takes a small sip of the red wine, and places the glass on the coffee table. The fake laughter on the screen effectively catches his attention again. He lets the bad comedy wash over him and take away all of the past week’s stress.</p><p>He remains like that for what feels like an eternity—but is probably half an hour—of watching TV and sipping wine, thinking of how amazing it is that he’s able to just <em>be</em> like this. Sure, he has an early shift tomorrow, but it’s only like, 8 p.m. tops. He can go to bed in an hour and still get enough sleep to be functional tomorrow. He might even manage to finish up his work at the big fancy hospital in town and still get through his night shift at the local clinic without needing a nap, or even consuming too much caffeine.</p><p>And yet.</p><p>A thump against his door manages to pull him away from relishing in the comfort of his quiet night in.</p><p><em>Not again</em>, Taeyong thinks, staring longingly at the nearly untouched glass of red wine sitting on the coffee table. He touches the glass’s rim with one finger before sighing, untangling himself from his self-made burrito blanket, and shuffling towards the door as quick as he can. He already knows what’s waiting for him on the other side of the discolored wood.</p><p>“Hey, doc,” Johnny greets an unamused Taeyong, a small smile on his lips. Taeyong hits the switch right next to the door, the one that turns on the bright lights, and groans out loud. The mask covering half of Johnny’s face is cracked, bent in an uncomfortable way, and even though Johnny wears all black—as usual—Taeyong can <em>see </em>just how wet Johnny’s clothes are. The smell of sweat and blood doesn’t help the picture at all.</p><p>Taeyong wastes no time rushing towards the other man’s side to support him. He can barely hold Johnny up, what with the height and weight of him, but he tries his best to lead him inside the slightly cramped living-room, towards the couch Taeyong was previously so <em>comfortable </em>on.</p><p>"You fucking <em>mess</em>, what did they do to you this time?" Taeyong chides, refusing to let his voice betray the struggle of dealing with Johnny’s body and the anxiety that spikes whenever the man shows up injured at his doorstep.</p><p>“Just a little bullet in the thigh, maybe some kicks to my ribs,” Johnny grunts, struggling to take the last steps towards Taeyong’s couch. He walks right over the brand new fancy white blanket Taeyong just purchased, because of course. Taeyong ought to start charging the vigilante for all things in his living room that Johnny has ruined with his blood. “Nothing serious! You should see the other guys, ha,” Johnny adds. Taeyong can see him trying to not wince, and he can smell the stench of grime and blood and battle from a mile away. He knows Johnny is right, that the other guys are for sure more battered than Johnny, but the attempt at humor does nothing to dissipate the worry clouding his mind.</p><p>Taeyong’s eyes go down to the skintight black clothes that the vigilante favours, grumbling under his breath about having to cut yet another piece of clothing. Once he finishes helping Johnny into the couch, his long legs extended and dangling over the edge, Taeyong is quick to procure a pair of scissors from the handy kit he collected right after the third time the vigilante had shown up in his house—the one he keeps right by the couch for nights like <em>this</em>—and cuts around the area the bullet tore through, wincing at the sickly sound of the fabric squelching as it is removed. Johnny’s complaints about how he <em>just</em> got these new pants fall to deaf ears as Taeyong’s heart thumps.</p><p>"You could've gotten yourself killed! Again!" Taeyong’s eyes burn with anger and anxiety and <em>worry </em>as he gazes into Johnny’s eyes for a moment, before bolting out to the kitchen to wash his hands.</p><p>"Maybe I just wanted an excuse to visit my favorite doc." Johnny smiles wide once Taeyong is back in the room, teeth painted red by his own blood. Taeyong's attempt at disinfecting Johnny's thigh with cotton and alcohol becomes perhaps a little rougher, just until he hears the taller man wince. Taeyong thinks, <em>It’s what you deserve for ruining my perfectly relaxing night,</em> and then,<em> When will you stop playing the hero? You’re gonna get yourself </em>killed<em> and then what will I do? </em></p><p>In an attempt to lighten the mood, Johnny interrupts Taeyong’s train of thought to ask, “Do you have anything to drink?”</p><p>"I’m not a fucking bar, <em>Knight</em>," Taeyong replies, saying Johnny’s stupid alias with as much disdain as he can muster. Still, he hands over his precious glass of wine, watching as Johnny downs it in one go. Taeyong holds back a wince. That was <em>expensive</em> wine.</p><p>"You are killing me, Taeyong," Johnny grunts, handing the glass back. His voice is as alluring as ever. Unfortunately, it’s become a new normality for Taeyong’s heart to flutter in his chest whenever Johnny is around, no matter how unpleasant the situation that brought them together. He finds it stupidly unfair. Taeyong did not bust his ass in med school only to end up kinda-sorta working for a rich vigilante and his stupid sidekick who run around Neo City in an attempt to do some good.</p><p>"Oh, you'd know if I was killing you, asshole. Now hold still–this ain't gonna be pretty." Taeyong takes a deep breath and starts to probe around for the bullet, hoping for a quick and easy extraction instead of having to dig for scattered bits.</p><p>"Don't I know it– fuck, fuck, <em>fuck</em>, that hurts like a motherfucker, holy <em>shit</em>—" Johnny whines. Taeyong forces himself to take yet another deep breath, focusing on the task at hand, instead of whacking Johnny with his forceps like he has fantasized about pretty much every single night Johnny darkens his door.</p><p>“It’s not your first bullet,” Taeyong points out sharply. He thinks of the night that spurred him to keep a properly equipped medical kit near him at all times. He remembers the feeling of Johnny’s life draining away, the horrifying realization that Johnny was mortal, that one bad hit or one bullet to the head and Taeyong wouldn’t be enough to nurse him back to health.</p><p>“Still fucking hurts, though,” Johnny grunts. Taeyong breathes in relief as he grasps the metal slug, grateful that it hadn’t touched <em>anything</em> it shouldn’t.</p><p>“Where were you? In a fucking swamp?” Taeyong asks as he cleans the area once again, needle and thread on standby.</p><p>“In an alley nearby, actually, but it started raining halfway, and there was mud, so I kinda <em>slipped</em> and that’s when they got me– only for a little bit, though,” Johnny wheezes.</p><p>Now the minutes pass in silence, with only Johnny’s heavy breathing and the rustling of his upper body as he tries to get comfortable without focusing on the wound. Johnny’s teeth grinds as he bears the pain. Taeyong is surprised he hasn’t made a snarky comment about wanting a local anesthetic.</p><p>Once everything is clean enough and sutured to perfection, Taeyong mumbles, "Jesus, they got you good." His hands gently touch Johnny's bruised and battered face for a moment. He combs the hair out of Johnny’s face under the pretense of checking for bumps on his forehead.</p><p>"Not gonna happen again." Johnny’s eyes close under Taeyong’s gentle ministrations, and Taeyong can see how he slumps against the sofa, how he breathes easier.</p><p>"You need to stop this, John," Taeyong mumbles, digging his index finger into the bruise right over Johnny’s left cheekbone. Johnny grimaces but doesn’t open his eyes, just heaves a sigh. His hand comes up to rest on top of Taeyong’s. The doctor stops the gentle pressure but doesn’t move away.</p><p>"The people <em>need</em> me," Johnny replies calmly. He sounds almost solemn. Taeyong doesn’t know if he should cry or laugh. I <em>fucking need you!</em> screams a little voice in Taeyong’s head. He tries to not let <em>that </em>show on his face, instead twisting it into a semblance of anger and worry that feels more fitting, more expected of him.</p><p>"The people need<em> you</em>? Do you have any idea of how fucking stupid you sound right now?" Taeyong demands. He hopes that the only emotion betrayed by his voice is righteous anger and not the deep sadness that covers him now, or the desire to cover Johnny in a thick blanket and talk about, like, his feelings about justice and saving his home instead of going around playing superhero and getting injured on the regular.</p><p>“You’re not gonna change my mind,” Johnny replies. Taeyong wants to <em>scream</em> because he <em>knows</em> that.</p><p>Instead, he sighs.</p><p>“Let me get you some ice for that.” Taeyong straightens his back and takes his hands away from Johnny’s face. “And some clothes– I’ll have to burn <em>those</em> later,” he adds. The chuckle he tacks on at the end of the sentence sounds uncomfortable and wrong.</p><p>“Taeyong—” Johnny starts, eyes wide open now, staring right into Taeyong’s soul.</p><p>“I’ll be right back,” Taeyong cuts him off, averting his gaze. He quickly turns around and walks the few steps to the silent kitchen, taking a deep breath once he’s far enough out of Johnny’s view.</p><p>Bracing himself on the kitchen counter, Taeyong looks at his hands, covered in fucking blood, and counts to three before turning on the faucet. The cold water burns against his skin as it washes away the last remnants of Johnny’s blood, the stuff that got on his hands when he got distracted and decided to be a <em>sentimental idiot</em>.</p><p>He goes through the motions on autopilot, dragging his feet to his room. He grabs an armful of clothes that are definitely too big to be his and a blanket, and walks back to the living room. There, he does his best to help Johnny into the sweatpants and hoodie, ignoring the way his heart beats double time when it shouldn’t.</p><p>“Thank you, Taeyong.” Johnny’s voice is sincere when Taeyong drapes the thick, black blanket over him.</p><p>“Don’t mention it,” Taeyong replies, holding his now ruined white blanket slightly away from himself. He forces himself to bite down a retort about how every month Johnny drops a hefty amount of money on his bank account, filing it as a “donation” for the small clinic Taeyong runs. His eyes meet Johnny’s, and the goodnight greeting he meant to get out without sounding <em>too</em> much like he’s pulling teeth sticks in his throat.</p><p>Outside, the rain slows to a drizzle.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i know this is short and pretty out of context but i'm excited to expand on this verse! as always, comments and kudos are appreciated &lt;3</p><p>you can find me @ <a href="https://twitter.com/florulentae">twitter</a> or <a href="https://curiouscat.me/poetarum">cc</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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